


The Thing That Binds Us

by aubreytruthfully



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, amulet fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:53:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubreytruthfully/pseuds/aubreytruthfully





	The Thing That Binds Us

If Dean were to guess when it started, he’d say the night he got the damn thing. It was the nicest Christmas present that he had ever received and best of all, it was from Sammy. That night he fell asleep on the couch with Sam curled up against his chest. Sam’s hand was tightly gripping the amulet, but the rest of his body seemed completely at ease. Yeah, if Dean were to guess when Sam’s thing with amulets started, he’d say that it was that night.

Dean could remember all the nights that Sam had fallen asleep beside him, amulet in his grasp, and content look on his face. It caused far too much ache in Dean’s chest when Sam had left for Stanford. When Sam had abandoned him. Left him. He wanted Sammy to be happy, but he wanted Sammy to be happy with him. Some nights Dean would wrap his own hand around the amulet, pretending that it was his brother. Always having some lingering hope that when he would wake, it really would be Sam’s hand. When morning light would break through a motel window or the Impala’s windshield, Sam was never beside him. No, Sam was far from his grasp.

John hadn’t understood when Dean said that needed to go somewhere, that he needed the car, that it couldn’t wait and that he would see him in a few days. With a suspicious look on his face, John had given him the keys. Dean knew that there were strings attached—there always were with his dad—but he’d suffer the repercussions when he got back.

His heart was racing the entire drive there. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t given Sam any warning. He was just going to show up and hope for the best. That’s what Dean was good at: winging it.  
The Impala slid into a parking space and he waited. So what if he had memorized Sam’s schedule? So what if he knew exactly where Sam’s dorm was? As far as Dean was concerned, knowing all of that was just one more way to make sure that his brother was protected. Well, Dean used that excuse to reason why he knew that information.

His eyes perked up when he saw Sam rounding the corner, looking so fucking—so fucking happy. Dean couldn’t refrain from grinning when he saw his brother smiling like that. Dimples curving in his cheeks, teeth flashing brightly, and that little run of fingers through his hair. Sam looked better than he had when he left; he looked stronger and more relaxed. There was a girl walking beside him, laughing with him. She was gorgeous. Blonde curly hair, a body that had Dean interested, and a smile almost as pretty as his brother’s. Pesky thoughts bugged at Dean’s mind; just wondering if they were together, just pleading to know if Sam was over him, if Sam had changed. He took a gulp of air.

Dean waited in the Impala, waited for longer than he would ever be willing to admit. Finally, he saw the girl come back out of the door, smiling just like she was when she entered. His foot tapped impatiently for a few minutes, trying to force away the eagerness.

Attempting not to be caught, Dean snuck into the building, moving quickly and avoiding eye contact with any passerby. His heart was racing—which was stupid—and the higher up the room numbers got, the more excited he became. It had been months since he’d saw Sam, months since he’d held Sam, months since he’d been with Sam, and now all those months felt like they were about to come tumbling down because he was standing right outside the door. A silent prayer flashed through his mind. Please say that Sammy’s alone right now.

Debating on whether to knock or pick the lock, Dean found himself just stalling outside the door. Normally, he would’ve picked the lock and probably scared the shit out of his brother. But this wasn’t about playing a joke on Sam, he wanted Sam to be happy to see him; not pissed off. Taking a breath, he tapped his knuckles against the door. Once. Twice. Three—and the door opened.

They stared at each other. Just staring, looking, almost checking to see if the other one was real. Sam looked stunned, but Dean was pretty sure that his face didn’t look much different from his brother’s.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice was soft, unsure.

“Sammy,” Dean grinned.

“What’re you doing here?” his brother still looked out of it.

“Anyone in there with you?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No, why do y—“

Dean shoved his brother back into the room, pressing their mouths together heatedly. His foot kicked the door shut. Dean was far too happy to see his Sammy. Hands roaming, clutching, just checking to make sure that this was real. Sam was doing the same. He felt fingers rub up his stomach, against his chest, and then there was a little tug at the amulet. Sam pulled away breathless; his eyes trailed down to the little gold pendant in his hand.

He smiled. Sam smiled at Dean. Because of Dean. And damn did that feel good.

“You’re still wearing it,” hazel eyes looked back up at him.

“Course I am,” his breathing was still a little uneven.

That was all it took for Sam to shove him against the door, hand still tightly clasped around the amulet. Dean gasped a little, he wasn’t used to Sammy being quite like this. Hazel eyes were darkened, but they still had that tinge of innocence, sweetness, that thing that made Dean’s knees weak.

Eyes fluttering shut, they kissed again; this time it was softer, more familiar. Dean felt Sam’s hips rock against his and moaned into his mouth. He slid a hand between them, palming Sam through his jeans. Grinning into to the kiss, he felt self-satisfied by the moans spilling from Sam’s throat. It had been so long since they had been like this. Personally, Dean thought that it had been far too long since they had been like this. All pressed up against each other, Sam’s hand always tightly gripping his necklace, each of them gasping for air.

“Sammy,” Dean whined, bucking his hips forward. Sam’s mouth sucking at his neck on the chain.

“I thought you were mad at me,” Sam murmured against skin, “I thought you would’ve thrown,” bite, “this,” suck, “away,” the chain rolled between Sam’s tongue and the darkening skin on Dean’s neck.

“Couldn’t do that,” Dean palmed Sam again just to feel that breathy moan against his skin, “Mean too much to me Sammy.”

Sam groaned when Dean managed to line their cocks up perfectly. It was all too much. Dean knew that they’d never made it away from this wall, let alone manage to get their clothes off. It had been too long. They were both too needy. There were too many feelings.

They started rocking against each other faster, moaning and whining. No one else could do this to Dean. The best part? Dean knew that no one else could do this Sam either. They were each other’s. Sam’s breath was hot on his neck, hot enough to warm the chain. Somehow, that just made things better. He watched Sam pull his head up, eyes blackened. Sam pulled on the amulet and pressed their lips together, tongues licking, tangling, fighting. That familiar heat was sinking down Dean’s stomach. He was so close that it hurt. When Sam pulled his lips away, he put the pendant between Dean’s swollen lips. With a thrust of his hips and the feeling of Sam’s tongue rolling that damn amulet around in his mouth, he came.

“Fuck, Sam,” he gasped, the warmed metal slipping from his mouth.

“Mmm Dean,” Sam nuzzled his face into Dean’s shoulder, “Please, please.”

“Shhh, I got you Sammy, I got you,” Dean slid his hand into Sam’s jeans and one gentle tug was all it took.

Still coming down from his own orgasm, he could feel Sam’s muscle’s jerking against him. It was the hottest thing he’d felt in months. The way Sam was breathing, the way Sam’s muscles finally relaxed against his, the way that Sam looked completely blissed out. Sam was the hottest thing he’d seen in months.

 

Dean’s eyes opened. Glancing up, he saw Sam cuddled close, one hand still grasping that damned amulet. He smiled, knowing that the dream he had that night was more than a dream. It was memory. One of his particular favorites. Things had changed since then. So many fucking things had changed, things that Dean wishes he could take back. Sam rustled beside him, letting go of Dean and stretching.

“Remember when I visited you at Stanford?” Dean asked almost in a whisper, turning his body so he could face Sam.

“Are you talking about that time?” Sam’s eyes were still sleepy, but his eyebrow curved up.

“I dreamt about that last night,” Dean admitted.

“Oh yeah?” Sam kissed him softly, “That must’ve been a good dream then.”

“It was okay,” Dean shrugged, just waiting for the—and there it was. The bitchface.

“You’re a jerk,” he glared.

“Oh whatever,” Dean propped himself up on en elbow, hovering over Sam.

Their eyes were tracing over each other’s faces. Sam brushed a hand against his cheek, letting it slide down his jaw, neck, chest, before reaching out and touching the amulet. Dean knew how much that necklace meant to Sam. He knew that it managed to bond them together no matter how far apart they were. He also knew that Sam couldn’t resist him when he wore it. This was probably his main motivation for wearing the thing.

“I love that you still wear this,” Sam mumbled against Dean’s lips, “Makes me so crazy.”

“I think we should reenact my dream,” Dean smiled, folding his hand over Sam’s so they were both holding that special bond between them.

“I think that’s a fabulous idea, but weren’t we up against a wall when that happened,” Sam chuckled.

“It’s called improvising,” Dean rolled his eyes and pressed their lips together.

It was better than his dream. It was better than that old memory. Every lingering touch, every moan, every slid of skin, every everything. Dean didn’t even care when Sam put the amulet in his mouth and kissed him. Dean didn’t mind when their tongues passed it around. Dean didn’t mind that he could taste metal when he came. Dean didn’t mind that Sam came gripping onto the chain with white knuckles. Honestly, Dean didn’t mind any of that because it was Sam. It was their amulet. It was their bond. Lifeline. Memory. And fuck if that didn’t make everything hotter.

“Don’t ever stop wearing this,” Sam traced his fingers around its spot on Dean’s chest.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Sammy,” Dean smiled to himself.


End file.
